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Ariel Sep 4
You make me
wanna write poems about you
You have been on my mind for so so long
probably because you were honestly
one of the most handsomest men
I've ever met in my life
that was so so my type
and the funniest thing was
that at the time
I never realized that
We met in Jerusalem
I thought you were gay
because you were so beautiful
the most gorgeous hair
the most beautiful eyes
that I could get lost in
the most beautiful  earrings
we sat on the bed
in your room with all your plants
and pleasured me
I dream of you all the time
we sat on my bed and spoke about
concioussness in hebrew
it seemed fluent on my tongue
when I was with you
I held your curls close to my face
carrassed your hair
stared into your eyes
with lashes so long
you walked to me barefoot
and asked me how you looked
and I told you handsome
you are always so handsome I said
it seemed fate brought us togehter
how weird that was.

You told me how beautiful I was
and that you didn't need anything from me
just to hold me and kiss me
maybe it was because eventhough
you were probably a bit of a player
you showed me that a man can be
romantic sweet and a pretty boy
who is deep
and that people like you exist
so I don't know what this poem is about
but I wander about you
so much
I hope maybe we will meet again
in another metaverse
or down the streets of Florentine
or Dizengoff Telaviv
I wander what that would be like
I love the pretty boys
I try to convince myself
that I am always just gay
but I gotta admit
I love the pretty boys
the ones who are deep kind
have a great fashion sense
and love to strum a guitar
the men that I was always taught not to like
that they weren't "man" enough
but to me they are
because I think real men are kind
loving sweet and beautiful .
Ariel Aug 25
And somehow
My mind goes back to two summers ago
My mind seems to always go back there
I don't really know why
Maybe it was because
I was in love with you
At that time
And I didn't really know why...

I remember sitting at the bar
In Florentine
without knowing a soul,
I looked  across the bar
and I see you there
with your dark skin
your impish smile
and your curly hair,
you smiled to me and offered me a drink
and to hang with your friends
I took you home with me
and we went out for a month
I remember waking up
to the smell of cigarettes,
and קפה שחור חזק-(black strong  coffee)
and smoke flying all  around you ,
I don't know why
but all I think of is you
still all this time later...
I haven't gone back to that home
that I lived in
,two years ago
a city away
for that time in my life,
had so much pain and addiction in it
but I still have so many fond memories of that place
so I think one day soon I'll go back
to the coffee shops in florentine,
to the parks that I used to sit in
and dream about life
to the bars I used to drink in
to melt the pains away ,
to the bar I used to go to ,
when I met you
and to the bomb shelter
that I stayed in
as the bombs flew past me,
yes Israel has been hard
but I forget  sometimes ,
that it also has lots of beautiful memories
in it too,
like meeting you
and your beautiful Ethopian,
frame face and culture
opening my mind
and showing me how dark
racisim can be
and what a beautiful soul
you are,
That race doesn't matter
And that beautiful souls do.
I have learnt so much from you
So when I saw the Ethopians protesting this week
About the ****** of a small child,
I remembered you
In my apartment
In Telaviv
That eve,
And how close I felt to you
With your dark eyes
Your dark smile
And your cigarette  breath
And coffee smells.
Ariel Aug 16
I feel so much pain inside
knowing that you are married
I literally couldn't see
how horrible you were to me
because you would mask it
with fake kindness
and because as a women
I was more trained to see that coming
from a man than from someone who was a close friend to me
you met me at such a vulnerable hard period of my life
I had just moved to a foreign country
I met you at a shabbat meal
we bonded over food
at first when we met
I was so attracted to you
I thought you were so beautiful to me
because in those moments you were .
We would go out drinking and partying
and although you were the religious one
you would party harder than me
I remember how so many times you would
leave me for dead
when we were around strange men
in the bars
and I would beg you to stay
to not leave me
I was so drunk I could barely move
and you didn't care
you only cared about having fun
and not about me
so because of you I experineced
so much violence.
I remember how I cried in those stairwells
begging him to stop
how I felt robotic
how you left me all the time
while promising to come back
how you would treat me like dirt
leave me on red
and make up some excuses for why
you are a shtty human ...
now honestly ,
You never once said I am sorry
until I begged it out of you,
you would talk to my roommates
who bullied me viciously,
became their friends
and even rented that apartment
in that house after I moved out
I saw that you got married
and although I would like to feel happy for you
all I feel for you is so much hate anger
and so much immense pain
I don't know why it took me so long
to see how much of a horrible person you are
a wolf in sheep's clothing
and soon you will move back here
and if I ever do see you again
I would love to spit in your face
and say Fk You!
No more to letting people walk all over me
and do as they please
I don't wanna care about being liked anymore
I'd rather be myself be safe and be around those
who actually see for who I am
instead of using me
for their own jealous gain.
Many times the ones who are the worst
are the ones closest to you
that you can't even see
now I am learning to trust the subtle red flags that I feel
when I meet someone so I don't meet a person like you again.
Ariel Aug 2
I think
I am starting to see
I see that I do love israel
it has taught me some hard lessons
but they were lessons that I needed to see
sometimes life must break you
in order to grow you
I love how the people care about each other
in times of need
how people smile at you on the street
how old israeli grandmothers
will treat you as their own
how we treat each other as family for good or bad
how life is authentic here
and how we don't bullsht each other
life is refreshing crazy and intense here
and there are things that I hate
and that things that I can't stand
but there are also so many beautiful things here
how people love their family here
how there are so many animals here
how we live in a beautiful country
with so many beautiful beaches
towns rivers streams
nature spots
and laughter of chidren
sparkling throughout the air.
How walking down the street
I hear arabic hebrew russian and sometimes english as well.
How despite how the world portays us
we work together in peace
and especially where I live in Israel
we all live in peace
how in times of trouble we get together
to protest we don't just stand by
and allow things to go on,
how we are so strong
how we hold each other when we cry,
how we care about one another
how we yell at each other
one minute
and the next we are laughing together!
This is my home
Israel and Palestine.
Ariel Jul 24
as I watch the protests from within
tearing down my streets my people
I have come to love and hate this country all at once
but in times of trouble and pain
the israeli people are my family
I feel my heart breaking all over again
but as well I remember the tears and blood
of the palestianians blood that is still fresh upon
the same land for the past 75 years of terror
see people think that its just the land of israel or palestine
but no its been a land of conflict and pain for a long while
a place where the greatest demons fears and patriarchial patterns
play out
I think that's why its one of the centers of the world
probably the only place.
You can feel the energies burning through seething
I can't explain it
only the ones who feel connected to this place
feel it
its as if the land cries
along with its people
the scorching sun
lights afire
and the people are on fire
for life for good or bad
I know that this place will prevail on
in some way
my place
my israel
my falestine
my middle east.
Andrew Rueter May 2021
You **** me
I **** you
muslims I see
killed by jews
no one is clean
muslims **** too
when will we be free
from this dogmatic glue
asking us to pick and choose
who we should kick and bruise
until we're sick and lose.

Neither side is too witty
doing the war machine's bidding
fighting over a magic city
for their brand of madness to be winning
the wheels of capitalism spinning
which has arms dealers grinning
due to population slimming.

I sit on the sidelines
wishing I could buy time
to write the right line
serving as a lifeline
to end the Palestinian oppression
and both of their aggressions
but I get the impression
there's no single lesson
that will cause deflection.

I honestly don't know why
people feel the need to pick sides
right wingers **** ride
everything the Israelis try
while some on the left decide
the Palestinians are great guys
I'm just tired of the blatant lies
based on each given state's size
the way both those snakes slide
to sympathy saying their victimized.

Neither side is a gracious host
both sides create hateful ghosts
for control of the coast
for control of the most
for control of the boast
of which religion has dominance
and which one is toast
not receiving the world prominence
of United Nations votes
so they build their moats
and block the other's boats
fighting over a hill like goats
people ask me which side I dote
and I just say **** them both.
my name's mort
the third
and i sell the

after hours
me 'n' the boys
grab a bite of

the world is ours
but never yours
without the Wheel it

ring around
guys 'n' gals
we'll give you the

take all you want
sure, you can
pay us back next

Ylzm Apr 2021
A nation is not of land nor borders, nor people
Israel dispersed and vanished, Jews remain
Mongols destroyed, yet the land is Ishmael's
Once there were seventy nations, today only one
Ylzm Apr 2021
Today is the third Day
Even as everyday is Sabbath
When the Son rose, the world
received the promised Ghost

      First of firstfruit blessed
         day after the Seven
         when it was still dark
      And the kingdom came
         day after Seven Sevens
         yet hidden to this day

For a week, Israel wandered
For a week, bread is unleavened
Evening of the Seventh approaches, fast
But time shall divide, till not one is lost
Michael R Burch Oct 2020
Mahmoud Darwish: English Translations

Mahmoud Darwish is the essential breath of the Palestinian people, the eloquent witness of exile and belonging ... his is an utterly necessary voice, unforgettable once discovered.―Naomi Shihab Nye

by Mahmoud Darwish
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This land gives us
all that makes life worthwhile:
April's blushing advances,
the aroma of bread warming at dawn,
a woman haranguing men,
the poetry of Aeschylus,
love's trembling beginnings,
a boulder covered with moss,
mothers who dance to the flute's sighs,
and the invaders' fear of memories.

This land gives us
all that makes life worthwhile:
September's rustling end,
a woman leaving forty behind, still full of grace, still blossoming,
an hour of sunlight in prison,
clouds taking the shapes of unusual creatures,
the people's applause for those who mock their assassins,
and the tyrant's fear of songs.

This land gives us
all that makes life worthwhile:
Lady Earth, mother of all beginnings and endings!
In the past she was called Palestine
and tomorrow she will still be called Palestine.
My Lady, because you are my Lady, I deserve life!

Identity Card
by Mahmoud Darwish
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am an Arab!
And my identity card is number fifty thousand.
I have eight children;
the ninth arrives this autumn.
Will you be furious?

I am an Arab!
Employed at the quarry,
I have eight children.
I provide them with bread,
clothes and books
from the bare rocks.
I do not supplicate charity at your gates,
nor do I demean myself at your chambers' doors.
Will you be furious?

I am an Arab!
I have a name without a title.
I am patient in a country
where people are easily enraged.
My roots
were established long before the onset of time,
before the unfolding of the flora and fauna,
before the pines and the olive trees,
before the first grass grew.
My father descended from plowmen,
not from the privileged classes.
My grandfather was a lowly farmer
neither well-bred, nor well-born!
Still, they taught me the pride of the sun
before teaching me how to read;
now my house is a watchman's hut
made of branches and cane.
Are you satisfied with my status?
I have a name, but no title!

I am an Arab!
You have stolen my ancestors' orchards
and the land I cultivated
along with my children.
You left us nothing
but these bare rocks.
Now will the State claim them
as it has been declared?

Record on the first page:
I do not hate people
nor do I encroach,
but if I become hungry
I will feast on the usurper's flesh!
Beware my hunger
and my anger!

NOTE: Darwish was married twice, but had no children. In the poem above, he is apparently speaking for his people, not for himself personally.

Excerpt from “Speech of the Red Indian”
by Mahmoud Darwish
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let's give the earth sufficient time to recite
the whole truth ...
The whole truth about us.
The whole truth about you.

In tombs you build
the dead lie sleeping.
Over bridges you *****
file the newly slain.

There are spirits who light up the night like fireflies.
There are spirits who come at dawn to sip tea with you,
as peaceful as the day your guns mowed them down.

O, you who are guests in our land,
please leave a few chairs empty
for your hosts to sit and ponder
the conditions for peace
in your treaty with the dead.

by Mahmoud Darwish
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

They left me unrecognizable in the shadows
that bled all colors from this passport.
To them, my wounds were novelties―
curious photos for tourists to collect.
They failed to recognize me. No, don't leave
the palm of my hand bereft of sun
when all the trees recognize me
and every song of the rain honors me.
Don't set a wan moon over me!

All the birds that flocked to my welcoming wave
as far as the distant airport gates,
all the wheatfields,
all the prisons,
all the albescent tombstones,
all the barbwired boundaries,
all the fluttering handkerchiefs,
all the eyes―
they all accompanied me.
But they were stricken from my passport
shredding my identity!

How was I stripped of my name and identity
on soil I tended with my own hands?
Today, Job's lamentations
re-filled the heavens:
Don't make an example of me, not again!
Prophets! Gentlemen!―
Don't require the trees to name themselves!
Don't ask the valleys who mothered them!
My forehead glistens with lancing light.
From my hand the riverwater springs.
My identity can be found in my people's hearts,
so invalidate this passport!

Excerpts from "The Dice Player"
by Mahmoud Darwish
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Who am I to say
the things I say to you?

I am not a stone
burnished to illumination by water ...

Nor am I a reed
riddled by the wind
into a flute ...

No, I'm a dice player:
I win sometimes
and I lose sometimes,
just like you ...
or perhaps a bit less.

I was born beside the water well with the three lonely trees like nuns:
born without any hoopla or a midwife.

I was given my unplanned name by chance,
assigned to my family by chance,
and by chance inherited their features, attributes, habits and illnesses.

First, arterial plaque and hypertension;
second, shyness when addressing my elders;
third, the hope of curing the flu with cups of hot chamomile;
fourth, laziness in describing gazelles and larks;
fifth, lethargy dark winter nights;
sixth, the lack of a singing voice.

I had no hand in my own being;
it was mere coincidence that I popped out male;
mere coincidence that I saw the pale lemon-like moon illuminating sleepless girls
and did not unleash the mole hidden in my private parts.

I might not have existed
had my father not married my mother
by chance.

Or I might have been like my sister
who screamed then died,
only alive an hour
and never knowing who gave her birth.

Or like the doves’ eggs
smashed before her chicks hatched.

Was it mere coincidence
that I was the one left alive in a traffic accident
because I didn’t board the bus ...
because I’d forgotten about life and its routines
while reading the night before
a love story in which I became first the author,
then the lover, then the beloved and love’s martyr ...
then overslept and avoided the accident!

I also played no role in surviving the sea,
because I was a reckless boy,
allured by the magnetic water
calling: Come to me!
No, I only survived the sea
because a human gull rescued me
when he saw the waves pulling me under and paralyzing my hands!

Who am I to say
the things I say to you
outside the church door?

I'm nothing but a dice throw,
a toss between predator and prey.

In my moonlit awareness
I witnessed the massacre
and survived by sheer chance:
I was too small for the enemy to target,
barely bigger than the bee
flitting among the fence’s flowers.

Then I feared for my father and family;
I feared for our time as fragile as glass;
I feared for my pet cat and rabbit;
I feared for a magical moon looming high over the mosque’s minarets;
I feared for our vines’ grapes
dangling like a dog’s udders ...

Then fear walked beside me and I walked with it,
barefoot, forgetting my fragile dreams of what I had wanted for tomorrow
because there was no time for tomorrow.

I was lucky the wolves
departed by chance,
or else escaped from the army.

I also played no role in my own life,
except when Life taught me her recitations.
Are there any more?, I wondered,
then lit my lamps and tried to amend them ...

I might not have been a swallow
had the wind ordained it otherwise ...

The wind is the traveler's fate: his fortune or misfortune.

I flew north, east, west ...
but the south was too harsh, too rebellious for me
because the south is my country.
I became a swallow’s metaphor,
hovering over my life’s debris
from spring to autumn,
baptizing my feathers in the cloud-like lake
then offering my salaams to the undying Nazarene:
undying because God’s spirit lives within him
and God is the prophet’s luck ...

While it is my good fortune to be the Godhead’s neighbor ...

Just as it is my bad fortune the cross
remains our future’s eternal ladder!

Who am I to say
the things I say to you?
Who am I?

I might have not been inspired
because inspiration is the lonely soul’s compensation
and the poem is his dice throw
on an unlit board
that may or may not glow ...

Words fall ...
as feathers fall to earth:
I did not plan this poem.
I only obeyed its rhythm’s demands.

Who am I to say
the things I say to you?

It might not have been me.
I might not have been here to write it.
My plane might have crashed one morning
while I slept till noon
then arrived at the airport too late
to visit Damascus and Cairo,
the Louvre, and other enchanting cities.

Had I been a slow walker, a rifle might have severed my shadow from its cedar.
Had I been a fast walker, I might have disintegrated and vanished like a fleeting whim.
Had I dreamt too much, I might have lost my memories of reality.

I am fortunate to sleep alone
listening to my body's complaints
with my talent for detecting pain,
so that I call the physician ten minutes before death:
dodging death by a mere ten minutes,
continuing life by chance,
disappointing the Void.

But who am I to disappoint the Void?
Who am I?

Keywords/Tags: Mahmoud Darwish, Palestine, Palestinian, Arab, Arabic, translation, Gaza, Israel, children, mothers, injustice, violence, war, race, racism, intolerance, ethnic cleansing, genocide
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